Prompted
by SheWhoScrawls
Summary: This is a series of drabbles from Lemon Zinger's prompt generator. Characters may vary, along with plot themes. Chapter title is comprised of character, setting, event/prompt word. Some are 221B's, some didn't make it. Enjoy!
1. Avery, Breakfast, Theft

_A/N: Finally, it actually ends up a 221B. I've tried and tried... So, this is more tonight, and more to come! As mentioned in the summary, this was made possible by Lemon Zinger. Please see her profile for the prompt generator. -SWS_

* * *

Wonderful, honey-drizzled, jam-filled pastry.

Inspector Avery took a bite happily.

All the others ignored him purposefully, but Gregson was hardly able to contain his laughter.

Avery didn't even care if Lestrade shot him when he returned. This was worth it.

He took another bite. It was heaven on earth, and besides, if Lestrade shot him, he would get something better than this in real heaven.

Better than this… Avery couldn't imagine.

His lavish daydreams were interrupted by a loud voice. "Oi! Avery!"

This was it. Lestrade was back. Avery braced himself for death.

"I had two pastries."

He wasn't dead… yet.

"Two?"

"Yes, two. I'll give you a hint: you're eating one."

All eyes were on Avery and Lestrade.

Avery swallowed nervously. "I can explain."

Lestrade folded his arms and cocked his head. "It better be good."

"You see, I was two pence short of buying anything at the bakery, and I walked in and saw you had _two_, so I thought…"

Lestrade laughed and clapped Avery on the back. "You owe me coffee, ol' chum."

Avery blinked in surprise. He was still alive… and still eating a great-tasting breakfast.

All the other officers were just as surprised. But they snapped out of it when Chief Inspector Lynch came and told them to get back to their usual, everyday business.

* * *

_A/N: Fun, fun. You'd be greatly amused by the things you get from this prompt generator. Great amusement... -SWS_


	2. Sherlock, Shooting, Wedding

_A/N: Yes, we are cranking it tonight! This one was tough at first, maybe the title hints as to why. Enjoy! -SWS_

* * *

"You're kidding. I really have to wear the suit?"

Watson smiled mischievously. "You're the one who agreed to do this. I only said I'd like someone to make sure my beloved doesn't get assassinated at our wedding. I never said that someone had to be you."

"You practically pleaded me to do it!"

"I discreetly hinted. You brought up the direct subject yourself."

"You're lucky I think the two of you are so perfect for each other."

Watson paused. "I thought you didn't approve of romanticism."

Holmes sighed and tugged hard at the collar of his shirt. "You're the physician, are you sure it's safe for these collars to be so stiff and tight?"

"Not the subtlest change of subject, Holmes."

"I could let her die."

Watson's face went white. "I apologize, old fellow."

* * *

It was much too quiet... surely the assassin would show himself soon.

Holmes was breathing shallowly due to the tightness of his collar; he was sure Watson would normally reprimand him for it, but there was honestly no way he couldn't alter his breathing patterns at this point.

Then he saw the man in the back balcony pull something metallic from his pocket and raise it in the direction of the bride-to-be. It is not often you are attending a wedding and see the best man suddenly knock the bride to the ground, just as a loud bang sounds from the back balcony.

Mary had no time to scream, and was later distressed that several of her flowers had been broken in the fall, but her savior was forgiven, and commended gratefully at the reception.

The shooter attempted to run, but was blocked by several Scotland Yarders at the base of the stairs.

And so was the situation of the shots fired at the wedding of Dr. John Watson and Miss Mary Morstan.

The newlywed couple was in relieved shock for months afterward.


	3. Gregson, Autumn, Accident

_A/N: Chapter 3! And a 221B! I feel ALIVE, people! -SWS_

* * *

Gregson wouldn't have been chasing a criminal right now if the man hadn't followed him from London.

Why? He has no idea, but Scotland Yarders are used to being random targets, so it's no shock when he's tortured by these jealous stalkers even on family vacation.

Now the leaves crunched under his feet as the two men raced through the undergrowth, each striving to cover as much ground as possible.

Suddenly the man he was chasing sharply veered left. Gregson had no time to follow suit before he took a painful fall into a hole in the ground, which had been covered with twigs and leaves, and was clearly some sort of hunting trap.

Dr. Watson was not happy when he had to come up and be part of the search team.

He and Mary had been calmly sitting at breakfast when Sherlock Holmes arrived to bring the news. "Gregson's missing from the lodge in Norfolk. His wife is very distressed. The yard is forming a search team and we have been asked to help."

Mary looked at the frowning doctor. "You know you should, John. Gregson might actually be grateful for once if you rescue him."

Later, Watson was packing and his wife appeared in the doorway of his bedroom. "Don't forget the thermal underwear, John."

He frowned. "Oh, bother."


	4. Cummings, Watching, Savile Row

_A/N: And chapter 4 is not a 221B. I do personally love this one, though. -SWS_

* * *

Cummings squinted through his telescope, trying to sight the young man coming out of _Delgada's Outfits for All Occasions. _The man was a suspect in abduction and wilful murder, and Cummings had been assigned to follow him and watch him until the police ambush could be organized and the arrest made.

The CID had rented an old room across the street for the very purpose of surveillance, so Cummings hadn't a clue why the proprietor of the place had given him such a demeaning, scouring look when he arrived with his telescope. He was only following directions… so what was there to criticize?

After a few hours, the landlord appeared with the announcement that two gentlemen wished to see him. Cummings assumed that they were more officers, coming to relieve him.

Instead they proved to be Holmes and Watson. Rather than explain theirselves, they stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed in confusion and mouths frowning with puzzlement.

Cummings was so alarmed at their arrival that he turned away from his post, holding the telescope loosely in his hands. He seemed even more concerned by the expressions on the men's faces. "Is everything all right, sirs?"

Holmes' mouth worked open and closed without sound for several seconds.

Finally Watson spoke for him. "It is no wonder the landlord was so confused," he said.

"I beg your pardon."

"A _telescope, _Cummings?" Asked Watson, gesturing towards the instrument.

The sergeant threw his hands up in the air. "Would you prefer I used a coffee mug?"

This rendered Watson confused, until Holmes pointed to the window. "There's your man," he said.

Cummings turned back to the window in a hurry. "Yes," he ejaculated under his breath. "Lestrade will be so proud!"


	5. Watson, Swimming, Foreign Office

_A/N: Yay, last of them, and a 221B! This one I puzzled over, for perhaps obvious reasons. -SWS_

* * *

"No, no, no…" Holmes put his head in his hands.

"So, ah, how do we track him down?" asked Lestrade, refering to John Clay, who had once again hatched a plan to dig a tunnel underneath Cox & Co. of Charing Cross. In digging his tunnel, he had burst a pipe running from the river.

"That's easy," said Gregson, "you follow the tunnel."

"It's flooded, genius," said Hopkins sarcastically.

"And evidently so is the basement of the Foreign Office," said Percy Phelps, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

The group stood at the top of the stairs, surveying the damage that had been done.

Suddenly a dark mass appeared into the pool of lantern light which Lestrade was throwing onto the water. It was a dead body.

"Who's that?" asked Holmes, peering and squinting at the object.

Phelps gasped. "Why, that's Tangey, the commissionaire!" he exclaimed.

"Watson," said Holmes, "go wade out there and reel him in, won't you?"

Watson paled and began to stammer, not wanting to admit his strong fear of drowning. "Holmes, I'm not so sure I can…"

"There is no time for 'I can't's, Watson. Just go."

He motioned and Lestrade shone the light further out onto the surface of the water.

Finally a glowering Watson sighed as he began to slowly wade into the depths of murky blackness.

* * *

_A/N: You didn't actually think I'd make him swim, did you? I may have shot and poisoned Watson a few times, but I'm really not that evil. -SWS_


End file.
